The Caitiff
by Eel Nivek
Summary: She was far from being the ordinary human that she believed she was. Now, she must learn what it means to be the mate of the Ancient, before it's too late.
1. Prelude

"Save the day, come take this all away, come on now"

_Hero_ ~ Burning Tree Project

* * *

**The Caitiff**

by Eel Nivek

_Prelude_

• • • • • •

In the realm of the Vampires, there once existed a ruler known as the Lord. He was among the first of his kin. He had lived throughout the ages, since the beginning of time, watching mankind co-exist with the cold ones. As the ruler of his kind, he kept a watchful eye over the balance by establishing laws and executing those who betrayed the order.

He was the indisputable Lord, the King of the Cold Ones, the Ancient, and the Nosferatu. His terrifying power allowed him to keep his subjects under control. In order to ease the fears of his kind, he constructed a system consisting of clans. With this system, he ruled alongside his court, comprised of ten clan leaders, each members of the Ancient bloodline.

No one contested or challenged his place at the head. They were wary of his power and knew how insignificant and needless a rebellion would be. It would be a one-sided massacre. The ten clan leaders respected the Lord, out of fear and formality. They abided by his words and governed their kind alongside him.

However, as the years passed by, the flame of rebellion slowly began to spark. Many of the clan leaders conducted secret meetings behind his back and cursed his cold-hearted ruthlessness. They were sick of the way he condescended them, as if they were nothing but insects and toys that he kept merely for his amusement. But most of all, they envied his power. They believed it was unfair for a single vampire to wield such destructive power.

So they conspired, planning and waiting for the right time to strike. Their desperation grew once they heard rumors that their Lord was planning on taking a mate. As the Lord himself, he was powerful, but not untouchable; however, with the acquisition of a mate, the Lord would be ten times as strong and nearly invincible. They had to strike.

Calling all who were loyal to their cause, the corrupt clan leaders laid a trap. By acquiring a quantity of Sacred Tear, a liquid extremely lethal to their kind, the leaders slipped the toxic into one of his drinks, with the intention to drug him.

Unaware of what his subordinates were plotting, the Lord drank the concoction and fell into paralysis. Seeing the effects of the poison take its toll, the clan leaders immediately began the next phase of their plan. They humiliated the Lord in every respect. They desecrated the temple built through his toil. They cut several locks of his pristine, silver hair.

But they saved the worst for last. The leaders conjured up a spell so intricate and potent that they had to sacrifice their first-born heirs to produce it. Such sacrifices were needed to seal the power of the Lord. In their last act of rebellion, the leaders completed the spell and sealed their Lord's power.

The effects were instantaneous. The Lord, who bore the royal red eyes of the Ancients, found himself stripped of that rank. The color of his eyes faded drastically until they turned into a foreign blue. His once silver hair deteriorated and darkened into black, the color of poverty and filth. He was completely humiliated. He was completely human.

Wasting no time, the leaders hung up his frail body for their people to see. Their leader, the feared Lord, was not as invincible as they believed him to be. Many of their kind cried out in horror at the shame their Lord was being put through. Others simply shook their heads in disdain as they saw the end of an era.

Time passed.

The time of the execution had come. By now, all of their kin had heard of their Lord's subjugation. They had come to witness the rumor for themselves. As thousands and thousands of vampires crowded the palace's public square, the leaders brought the Lord out for all to witness.

He was nearly unrecognizable with his dark hair and dull eyes, but he did not give the traitors the satisfaction of seeing him angered or pained. His face was a mask of indifference, the usual condescending lord-like façade. He would not yield, even though he had been brought to lowest of lows. A pit of murderous anger boiled deep within him, but he suppressed the emotion.

The Lord looked to the skies and felt the moon's cold rays pressing down against him. He finally closed his eyes in acceptance of his fate. Although his desire to take revenge upon those who insulted him was strong, he knew his time was over. He would rather die than live as a human. He waited for the finishing blow to come, but it never came.

For no obvious reason, the public square blew up in outrage. In the midst of the chaos, he was stolen from underneath the noses of the leaders. Lightweight and nauseous, the human Lord closed his eyes once more as he let destiny have its way with him.

When all was clear and the danger to their master was long gone, the Lord's loyal servants set their master down and examined his new form. Shocked and unable to comprehend the change in their Lord's physique, two of the servants set out to find a shaman, one who had all the answers to their questions.

The Lord's servants finally found the one who could aid them, and they quickly brought the old shaman back to their master. The shaman examined the human Lord and explained that a powerful seal had been placed on him. He told the Lord that he retained only a slight amount of his original powers. Although he was stronger than a mortal, the Lord had lost the majority of his powers.

Upon hearing this, the Lord became angry. He vowed revenge on the clan leaders who had humiliated him and sealed his powers. However, as he made plans to eliminate the leaders, he discovered that his body was far weaker than he had anticipated. The Lord's body was so weak that he could barely walk without kneeling over. The strain of his raw power on his incompatible human body was too much.

Once more, the Lord looked to the shaman for the solution. The elderly man told the Lord that his body required time to adjust to the physical changes. To do so, the shaman suggested that the Lord rest for an adequate amount of time.

So the Lord fell into a deep sleep, hibernation. With his three loyal servants guarding him, the Lord slept for a century.

As the century unfolded, the vampires became more sophisticated. A new Lord, a former clan leader, had replaced the original Lord. Under his leadership, vampires ruthlessly exploited and attacked the weaker human race. Human hunting became a sport supported by the monarchy. The more "kills" a vampire obtained, the greater his or her social standing became. And due to human reproductive success and adaptive capabilities, there was never a shortage of prey.

Social standing became _the_ great emphasis. Every vampire on the continent yearned to be a part of the royal families. Wise parents offered the services and skills of their children in exchange for being adopted into subsections of the royal families. Members of the royal families, nobles, had blood-red eyes a trait that their original Lord was most known for. The red hue was the envy of every social hag, whose sole purpose in life was securing such traits for their own families. The prestige and authority that came with the traits was unrivaled. A vampire with red eyes was automatically deemed a noble and had authority above those that did not.

For this reason, it was common to see crowds of lower-class vampires surrounding nobles, when they visited the villages, all to catch a glimpse of the ever-famed red eyes. Society was dominated by rank and prestige. Those without class worked their way up, either through honest means or corrupt exploitations. The allure of prestige and aristocracy drove some vampires mad. These power-hungry individuals committed crimes, assassinating nobles to take their places.

Corruption soon spread throughout the monarchy, but the new Lord was pre-occupied with matters that he believed were of more importance. The new Lord searched for years, using every method possible, hiring the wisest and darkest sorcerers to obtain the original Lord's silver hair, but try as he might, the effort was in vain. Only the original Lord, the Ancient, and members of his personal clan could possess silver hair, the absolute, uncontested symbol of authority.

The inexperienced, new Lord believed that if he possessed this trait his kingdom would naturally become his. He still lived in the shadow of the former Lord, whose incomparable power was still a legend that vampires spoke of from generation to generation. The current Lord despised ruling in the shadow of the great Lord Noctis L. Caelum, the Ancient. Because of this, he shirked his duties, causing the Kingdom of Pulse to wither away into corruption.

As the Kingdom of Pulse became a shadowy corpse of the greatness it had once been, as society turned its attention to status and rank, as the new clan leaders did everything in the powers to shift their attentions from the previous Lord to their current Lord, the original Lord hibernated in a crystal-stasis, waiting ever-patiently until the time his resurrection would happen.

The century came to an end.

The Lord's three servants waited once more, as they had done for a hundred years, for their Lord to recover. The Lord freed himself from his crystalline resting quarters and greeted his servants warmly. His appearance was still that of a human's, but his powers, still sealed, were controllable.

The Lord's long-awaited reunion was cut short once he learned of the dire state that his delicate kingdom had fallen into.

Something had to be done.

• • •

"Prompto."

"Master?" The blond-haired servant kneeled respectfully in front of his Lord.

The Ancient, Noctis L. Caelum gathered his thoughts, "Where is the location of Ragnarok?" He responded, inquiring the whereabouts of his ancient weapon.

"The current Lord was unable to destroy it. Instead, he chose to give it to one of his leaders as keepsake. The clan leader, Red K. Luxil, who has an establishment in the village, Cocoon possesses it," Prompto replied. "Master, are you planning on retrieving your sword?"

The silent Lord nodded, "In my current state, I will not be able to take on all of the clan leaders, if their allegiances truly lie with the traitor. I require Ragnarok. As of now, its retrieval is our highest priority."

"Yes Master," Prompto bowed. "Shall I tell Ignis and Gladiolus about your plans?"

The Lord nodded once more.

"As you wish."

• • •

The small village of Cocoon was mostly known for its rural agriculture. To be fair, it was a village for the lower-class vampires, those that didn't have the fighting capabilities that the higher classes did. Consequently, the vampires that live in Cocoon were looked down upon. The higher classes and nobles viewed them as the tools that every kingdom had, tools that were only useful as long as they carried their own weights.

The current clan leader that presided over the region of Cocoon, Red K. Luxil, made his way into the public square, after receiving quite a shocking premonition. As the villagers started to make their own ways into the square, the pale-faced leader began his speech.

"Citizens," he paused, waiting for the crowd to hush. "Last night, I received a message from the Gods. It seems that an unknown enemy has made plans to sack my estate tomorrow night. Had the Gods not revealed the power of the enemy, the number of my current guards would have sufficed, but this is not the case. The enemy is not someone who can be dealt with so easily."

"Alas I require the assistance of you all, who I have governed oh so mercifully," The black-haired clan leader raised his arms to the skies. "Lend me the strongest vampires from each of your families and I will reward those that take part with wealth and power, live or die, as long as I remain untouched throughout the night."

The promise of riches brought the crowds to their feet. Each family head pounced and pushed their way to the front of the line. Everyone was more than eager to help. How could they not be when life in the current era was determined by status? The mere thought of becoming members of high society drove the peasants. No more would they have to toil. They could be dukes, duchesses, counts and countesses! They could attend the famed social balls that they had only heard stories of!

Throughout the rest of the evening, the heads of the lower class families lined up, waiting for their turns to enlist their strongest children. The clan leader, Red smiled giddily, showing his terrifying fangs. He had already recruited more than he had estimated he would, yet the lines were still long. With the number of soldiers he would enlist by the end of the night, he would be invincible. Not even the current Lord would be able to stop him, lest a robber.

When the recruitment process had come to an end, the sun had set. The confident clan leader summoned his caravan of horses to transport his new army to his estate. He watched with a uncompassionate heart as many of the families put on pathetic shows of tearful farewells.

He smiled maliciously.

If only they knew.

• • •

"Lightning."

"Yes mother?" The pink-haired vampiress answered, inclining her head with respect to her family head.

"You are without a doubt the strongest member of the Farron family," the Farron family head replied, caressing her eldest daughter's warm cheeks. "You know what must be done, correct?"

"Of course mother," Lightning nodded. "I will do as Lord Luxil requests and become a member of his guard."

"That you will, my daughter," her mother stated. "Remember, live or die, your sacrifice will bring balance to the Farron family. Everything you do as of now will bring prosperity to our family. Your sister will have the opportunity to attend high-class faculties, where she will receive a noble's education. And I, as the family head, will be able to improve the Farron family's standing with the royal court."

"I will do everything that is in my powe—"

"NO!" her mother snapped angrily. "You _will_ do anything Lord Luxil asks of you. If he asks you to sacrifice yourself for him, then you will do _exactly _that. The Farron family's future depends on the Lord Luxil's survival, not yours, understood?"

Lightning grit her teeth silently.

"Do I make myself clear?" Her mother hissed, "You will not return empty-handed. If you do, you will be disowned in an instant."

"I understand mother."

"Good," the Farron family head smiled, "Now go. It is rude to keep the Lord waiting any longer."

Lightning turned and started walking towards the large caravan. Her heart was heavy. She didn't know why, but she felt insignificant. Her mother never once thought about the possibility that her eldest daughter would never return. All she cared about was the success of the Farron family. And to her credit, her mother was doing exactly what a family head was supposed to do. Minimize losses and maximize gains. Even if she was sacrificing her eldest daughter, her mother had a valid reason to do so.

Without another second's thought, she climbed aboard the caravan. Inside the hooded horse cart, she took a seat next to the other volunteers and watched them silently. There were vampires of all different ages, even young teenagers. That was how desperate some of the families were.

Continuing her examination, she spotted a well-known figure in the far corridor.

Caine X. Royal.

Cocoon's strongest fighter was aboard the caravan. It wasn't a surprise considering he was the most qualified for the position. He was with his normal posse, a group of arrogant, obnoxious village boys, who followed Caine like obedient lapdogs. They knew that they were untouchable, above the law, as long as Caine was with them. She had to admit, she had seen Caine in combat, and he was the strongest vampire she had ever seen to grace the battle field. But that was just her. She was only a child, a newborn. From what her mother had told her, there were vampires far stronger than Caine.

She would have respected Caine's skills were he not as rash or foolish as his followers. The sight of them of chattering away incessantly was unnerving. They should have been worried about the upcoming battle, as the others were, not lazing around.

She continued to endure the weary caravan ride. As she did, she thought anxiously about the enemy she was going to face. Red K. Luxil was no ordinary noble. He was one of ten the clan leaders. He had guards who were probably the best of the best, yet he still required the aid of the villagers. The enemy was definitely not someone to be taken lightly if the clan leader believed it was necessary to be extra-cautious. If the enemy was really someone who the clan leader feared, then neither she nor any of the other villagers would be of any help.

There was no pretty way out of this.

When they arrived at the Lord's estate, she gasped at the sheer enormity of the place. It was beyond huge. To think that a single person occupied such a place, clan leaders were truly powerful beings. She didn't get another chance to admire the building's beauty. One of the biggest, brawniest vampires she had ever seen divided the villagers into groups.

"That's the Lord's right-hand man," she heard one of the villagers whisper.

In their respective groups, they were herded in the palace courtyard where a stage of some sorts was set up. Lord Luxil immediately made an appearance. Flashing his brilliant, red eyes, he welcomed the villagers to his palace and praised their bravery. It was all flattery, but it seemed that the majority of the villagers bought his "sincere" words

"Now shall we have a contest of strength?" The Lord inquired, motioning for his right-hand man, the giant to step forward, "In order to assess your strengths, I will give you all a golden opportunity. The rules to the contest are quite simple. Everyone can take part, and the task is to land a blow, a single touch, on the Captain of my troops. Do this and I shall give you… the gift of the scarlet eyes."

_What!?_

Lightning couldn't believe what she was hearing. The scarlet eyes?! She wasn't the only one surprised. The whole room exploded in anticipation. To think that they would be able to receive the eyes of the nobility so easily!

A villager stepped forward immediately. It was Caine, and it was quite obvious, he was itching for a fight. The look on his smug face told her that he thought the task would be easily. _The fool._

"A challenger?" Lord Luxil smirked at the child's overbearing confidence. "So be it."

The match began without any introductions and from the beginning it was quite clear who was better. The Lord's right-hand man put Caine in his place without using an arm. Everyone was shocked, her included, at the helplessness that Caine exhibited. Their village's strongest champion was tossed around the courtyard like a helpless ragdoll.

_"_Is there anyone else?"

No one moved.

"Very well. Let's move along to the room assignments."

As she was guided into the hallway, Lightning continued to stare at Caine's unmoving, battered body. To think that Caine of all people would be reduced to such a state… Lord Luxil didn't need the villagers' assistance. If anything, she and the rest of villagers would most likely be used as shields.

She was pulled into one of the rooms and assigned to watch over it along fifty other villagers. At the center of the enormous room was a dark-sword that radiated an ominous aura. By the way its jagged curves were intricately placed, she knew that it was an executioner's weapon. _What malice and hatred._ Who could be the owner of such a sword?

Not too long, a member of Lord Luxil's army came in with a barrel of weaponry: swords, daggers, bow and arrows, and distributed them to villagers inside. She chose a sabre and tested it out. It was both heavy and blunt. _Useless._ It seemed Lord Luxil truly didn't care about their well-being.

The sun had set once more. Day had turned into evening. She had stood in the same room for hours. Her legs protested at the abuse, but she paid them no attention. The fifty other villagers or so squatted on their knees to ease their aches. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If the night continued this way, then perhaps there would be no trouble. She closed her eyes and emptied her thoughts, but she was irritated by energy that pulsed out of that damned sword. The sword made her restless and uneasy. It was almost as if the object had its own conscience.

One of the villagers, a boy from Caine's posse, shook his limbs and stretched, obviously tired of waiting for something to happen. The fool walked up to the black sword and reached out to grab it, when Lord Luxil had specifically warned them against doing so. The minute his finger touched the sword's hilt, he dropped to the floor, on his knees, screaming in pain. His arm blew up in a horrifying explosion of black flames, but that wasn't all. The flames spread up, starting at his shoulder and slowly engulfing his body until he was nothing but ashes.

Everyone panicked and ran towards the walls, not wanting to be close to the cursed sword. Lightning clutched her stomach, wanting to throw up. This was the first time she had ever witnessed someone being so brutally killed. Who in the world could own such power to wield that sword? She thought once again.

It took some time for her gather her wits after witnessing that shocking death, but she did managed to calm herself. She stretched her arms and patted her face to keep herself alert. Just because nothing had happened so far, she couldn't be at ease. The robbers could strike at any moment now.

And they did.

The lights were suddenly cut off. She heard the villagers gasp and held her sabre up. Her eyes had not adjusted to the darkness yet, so she was terrified of her invisible opponent. The sound of metal tearing through flesh followed by pained screams erupted from her right. She turned, heart pounding, and hoped she could guard. The sound came again, this time from her left. Next, her front, then her back. She was surrounded by the sound of death, with nowhere to hide. _Why?_

Then lights turned on, and she wished they hadn't.

Everywhere she looked, from wall to wall, the once pristine, white room was covered with fresh blood. The ceilings dripped periodically and the floor was littered with dead bodies. As she tried to move, she realized that the floor was slippery. She was standing in a puddle of blood. No, the floor had become a pool of blood. It was sickening. She covered her mouth and tried not to hurl.

"Why hello there pretty," a voice teased.

She turned and found herself face to face with a blond-haired vampire, who had a long-sword clutched in one hand, resting over his shoulder. There was blood on his cheeks, but he licked it off dementedly.

"D-Did y-you?" She tried to say, but couldn't control her voice or her body.

"Did I kill them?" he replied with a snicker. "Oh I don't know? What do you think?"

"Stop laughing at me, you bastard!" She hissed in her anger, although she shouldn't have. She was at this man's mercy. He could easily kill her when he wanted to.

"Woah there! Retrace your claws, kitten," The blond laughed and threw up his hands in gesture of surrender, "Let's play for a while, shall we? You're a pretty little thing, it'd be a shame to kill you off so quickly."

He stepped forward. She stepped backward and tripped over a corpse. Her whole body became covered in blood. She tried to push herself back onto her feet, but slipped again.

"Hey," The blond called out, "I just let you live, and that's so unlike me, so entertain me, maybe?"

"Bastard," she cursed under her breath. She ran for the door, hoping to escape, but he materialized in front of her and shoved her to the floor.

"No, no kitten. Don't try to run away," he smirked again.

She wanted to wipe that condescending grin off his face. _If only I could…_ A flash metal appeared before her eyes. She subconsciously dodged to left. If she hadn't, she would have been a corpse. An enormous, jagged dent was left where she once lay.

"Play time's over, pretty," The blond swung his sword around, nicking her on the shoulder.

Lightning fell to the floor once again, but this time, her left shoulder exploded with pain. She clutched her shoulder and crawled for her life. Blood spurted out of her wound, slipping through her fingers. She was dizzy. _Was this it?_ Was this really all she amounted to? _How unfair._

She continued crawling across the bloodied floor. Her mind couldn't focus on anything else but the pain in her shoulder. It hurt so much. Instinctively, she moved toward the dark-sword at center of the room. _So close._ She was almost there. If only she had a little more time, but she didn't. She suddenly felt the tip of a blade tear through her shoulder, impaling her. She screamed out in pain.

It was too much.

"Oops," The blond licked his lips, "I didn't think I'd miss."

She closed her eyes and tried to breath, tried to block out the pain. Using all of her might, she reached out for the sword. It reacted to her.

_You think you can wield me? _It spoke to her mind.

_Lend me your strength_. She pleaded.

_You are not my master. You are not the Ancient, you are not the one who forged me. You have no authority or right to command me as you see fit._

_Please._

_Pleading will get you nowhere. I know who my Master is. He is here, searching for me._

_I don't care if you have a Master! I will wield you!_

_Then you will die._

She froze. Images of the brutal death the boy had experienced earlier came rushing into her mind. The way those black flames ate away at his flesh. The gruesome images were still fresh in her head.

_You cannot wield me... You are not my Ma—_

_I AM YOUR MASTER! _She mentally screamed and grabbed the black hilt her with her free hand. Power surged through her as she clutched the sword.

The blond, who had watched the exchange unfold, dropped his sword in shock. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, "N-No way… Oi… Oi… T-That's M-Master's sword, no one can touch it but him. What the hell?"

Clutching the sword tightly, Lightning focused on wielding it. She grabbed it firmly and swung at the blond-haired vampire with all her might. Black flames shot out from the sword and snaked their way towards her target, missing, but knocking him flat onto his back.

He saw her catching her breath and realized she was losing consciousness. The battle was over. She had spent too much energy on the first swing. He closed the gap in an instant and swung his sword for the kill. In his haste, he didn't realize that was exactly what she wanted. He saw her open her eyes intently.

_Shit!_ He stopped his attack and guarded his body instead, as she countered.

The force of the blow should have killed him, but he released his suppressed powers before the blow landed. Instead being torn to bits, he went crashing through the hallways and ended up under a pile of rubble.

Dusting off his silver hair and flashing his deadly red eyes, the once blond looked through the holes he had created and groaned. The woman had fled!

"Prompto," a voice interrupted.

Prompto looked up to see his dark-haired Master towering above him.

"M-Master?" He stuttered, rubbing the back of his head in a show of guilt.

"Explain yourself."

• • • • • •

"Begin the operation."

"Yes Master," his three servants replied, going off their separate ways.

Noctis observed the front entrance of Luxil's fortress. Every entrance, window and alleyway was filled with guards. The coward must have enlisted the help of the villagers. _Pitiful_. No matter, innocent or not, anyone who stood in his way would be terminated.

As he stood at the entrance, with the attention of almost all the guards, he felt Ragnarok pulsing and heard it calling for him. The intel Prompto had relayed was correct. His sword was in this place. The thought of his precious weapon being sullied came to mind, and he became angry.

A group of poorly armed soldiers rushed out to take him on.

_Die_. He commanded, controlling their minds. Their necks snapped up in an awkward angle and their bodies flopped to the floor like lifeless dolls. In a second, he had eliminated an entire platoon of soldiers. Whether they were trained or untrained, the feat itself was impressive. To think that he had only a fraction of his normal power…

The soldiers' companions saw their comrades perish and turned in a full retreat. Noctis walked into the palace just like that.

_Master_, Ignis called him telepathically. _Luxil resides on the second floor, grand bedroom. He is with his group of elite guards._

_Make sure he does not leave, _he replied._ I will be there shortly._

Another group of soldiers, those that had not witnessed his display of power, charged at him. They were also easily disposed of. He walked up the grand staircase unhindered by the bodies that lay around him. Instead, he focused on the fortresses' interior design. The traitor Luxil had spent a fortune on ancient artifacts that were displayed all over the building. No doubt, Luxil had also spent a fortune to obtain his sword.

He forced his way into the grand bedroom and spotted Luxil cowering behind his men. The sight was truly pathetic. Luxil's men charged at him, with their weapons drawn, but he paid them no heed. He continued walking towards the traitor. As Luxil's men came inches within striking killing blows, they dropped to the floor, completely overwhelmed by his aura.

"Luxil," he called out. "What foolishness is this?"

"M-Master? H-How have you recovered?" Luxil quivered, holding onto the bedframe for support and frightened for his life. "H-How is this possible?"

Noctis walked towards the man, with his claws armed, "Is that really what you should be asking? Should you not be begging for your life?"

Terrified out his mind, the clan leader crawled his Master's feet and kissed his shoes. Trembling, Luxil bowed his head and completely surrendered himself to his lord, "I d-did not want to do it Master, I swear! That traitor, Nathaniel coerced me into doing it! I am being completely honest Master. He threated to harm the others!"

"So you chose to act base on your sense of justice, am I correct?"

"Yes Master, please forgive me! I swear on the lives of my ancestors that I did not mean any harm to you."

"Is that so?" Noctis turned to leave.

"M-Master y-you're leaving? Am I being spared?" Luxil couldn't believe his luck. _Praise the heavens._ "Thank you Master. Bles—URGH!"

The clan leader keeled over as his Master punctured his heart with his claws.

"Do not try to deceive me, you worm," Noctis hissed into the Luxil's ear. He pulled his hand out of the traitors flesh, watching him wriggle in pain and choking on his own blood. He had injected his venom into Luxil's heart. In a matter of minutes, the fool would be reduced to ashes after suffering from excruciating pain.

With this matter settled, he called for his servant.

_Prompto._

_Shit!_ Was the unexpected response.

Noctis remained unaffected as one of the walls in the grand bedroom exploded, sending Prompto flying into the ground.

"M-Master?" was Prompto's poor response.

"Explain yourself," he ordered, mildly surprised that the enemy had forced Prompto release the seal on his vampiric powers.

"Ugh… That girl, she wielded Ragnarok and used it against me."

_Wielded Ragnarok?_ _What nonsense…_

"Impossible," he cursed, but he knew it was true. He had felt the sword's power being used. "Report this to the others, I will pursue the girl."

With that, he vanished, instantly becoming one with the shadows. As he used this power, he felt and saw everything that the shadows did. He spotted the girl, by a raging riverbed close to Luxil's fortress. She was limping and clutching her bloody shoulder with one hand and weakly grasping onto Ragnarok with the other.

He appeared in front of her and surprised her.

Lightning trembled and shook at the sudden appearance of the dark-haired man. In her shock, her legs gave out and she fell to the floor. The man before her was not like the others. No, he was far above anyone she had ever met. His aura radiated raw energy. It made her feel unworthy and tainted to be in the presence of one so elegant and glorious.

"The sword," she heard him say. Even his voice was as elegant and smooth as his being. She couldn't help but be swayed by the melodious, seductive tone to it. It took all of her power to refrain from kneeling over and begging for a compliment.

She almost handed over the sword, but she managed to break free from her trance. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to escape and unwilling to give her enemy the satisfaction, she tossed the dark-blade into the riverbed, where it quickly rushed downstream.

Noctis watched as his precious weapon was discarded like a child's toys. The action was futile. Now that he had seen Ragnarok, he could summon it back to him any time, but the girl's disrespect angered him. She had to die.

Grabbing her frail figure by the throat, he held her into the air and watched as her spirit and breath left her body. She struggled as best she could, but she was helpless. Her legs kicked, her hands flailed, but in the end, her energy faded and her limbs dangled loosely. Were she not a worthless commoner, perhaps he would be romantically attracted to her vivacious spirit, but that was not the case. She was merely filth.

Not wanting to give the girl the luxury of a swift death, he sank his fangs into her open wound and injected his venom into her body. However, things did not go as he planned. As he sampled her blood, he became shocked. Never before had he tasted something so delicious or addicting. It was the sweetest liquid he had ever tasted, more fine than the clan leader, Guinevere's, who was known to have the best blood there was.

Unable to control his desires, he sucked her dry, watching her bright skin turn deathly pale. Holding up her near-lifeless body, he knew that there was no way for her recover. She was not a noble, so she didn't have the regenerative capabilities that nobles did. Had she been a noble, she would have recovered the next day. It was a shame, really. She was quite attractive for a commoner, too.

He held the girl's limp body over the raging river and stared into her dull eyes. _What despicable eyes._

"Swim," he ordered, dropping her body into the water.

_If you can._

• • •

In the days following Luxil's death, the Kingdom of Pulse was invaded by the original Lord, who had surprisingly not only regained his sealed powers but had also become ten times stronger. Unable to comprehend why the seal had worn off, the Lord saw this as a good omen and struck. The current Lord was terribly outmatched. In a duel displayed for the whole of Pulse to see, the original Lord tore the traitor to pieces, limb by limb.

Once he had regained his authority, the Lord executed the ten traitorous clan leaders as well. He then assigned leadership positions to those he trusted and gave them the coveted gift: the silver hair of royalty. The new clan leaders accepted these gifts with eagerness and swore a binding oath of loyalty to their Lord. Never again would history repeat itself.

As time passed and as the Lord finally weeded the corruption out of his court, he shifted his attention to wants of his people. The people made it known that they desired entertainment. The old court had ruled it legal to hunt down humans, as long as the humans were the ones who had strayed unto Pulse. The humans were getting far too wise and less of them appeared in Pulse, causing the vampires to lose one of their greatest sources of entertainment.

Realizing this, and wanting to genuinely earn the approval of his people, even though he did not need it, he ruled that every four months or once a quarter, the court would traverse into human lands and select able humans to take part in an event, which they called the Games. In the Games, the humans would be pitted against vampire contestants, in a coliseum, where crowds of vampires would watch from the stands. The public heard of the Lord's plans and praised his genius.

All was well within Pulse until one day the Lord dropped weakly to his knees during a meeting with his three servants, who had now become clan leaders. The servants watched in shock as the seal on their Lord's power returned, changing him once again into a mortal. No one had the answer as to why such a thing had happened, except for one person.

The Lord sent his servants to fetch the old shaman that had helped them a century ago. The servants escorted the shaman as was requested. The wise, old vampire examined the Lord and immediately knew what had transpired. He told the Lord that he had been mated. The words shocked everyone who was present at the court, his servants especially. The Lord shook his head and denied the accusation, but the shaman persisted and continued asking questions. The Lord then thought of a time, a year ago, when he had injected his venom into the commoner girl, the one who had managed to wield his sword.

The shaman decisively concluded that the Lord had mated the girl right then when he had injected his blood into her body. The shaman then asked the Lord if he could feel her presence. By nature, mates could sense one another telepathically. The Lord shook his head, and then stated that the chances of the girl surviving, in her condition at the time, were next to none. So he asked the shaman what happened when a vampire's mate perished.

Gathering his intellect, the shaman explained that the reason the Lord's power had returned for a short duration was due to his acquisition of a mate, but the reason the Lord's power had been sealed was either due to the fact that the Lord's mate had perished or the fact that Lord had gone too long without the blood of his mate.

Realizing the severity of his foolish mistake and banking on the circumstance that his mate had perished, the Lord summoned his clan leaders and ordered them gather a group of suitable Brides.

Word soon spread throughout Pulse that the Lord was searching for a mate. Vampiress of all stations heard this and leapt at the chance of becoming the mother-in-law to the Vampire Ancient. Greedily pursuing the prestige and attention they would receive from being in such a glorified position, these vampiress trained their daughters, day and night, to become a Bride suitable for their Lord.

The trial soon began not too longer afterwards. Mothers attended the court with their daughters in tow and showcased their abilities. If interested, the Lord would set aside time later for further introductions. These trials continued for several months and the Lord had attempted to mate six times, but the Brides he chose were unable to accept his blood. Instead, they perished into ashes.

As the days passed, the Lord grew impatient. More importantly, his thirst for _that_ blood continued. To quench this desire, he pre-occupied his time making forceful, hard love to the vampiress his body desired. But even love-making was not enough. Whereas he satisfied his sexual craving, he could not satisfy his thirst. His mind continued to yearn for that delicious taste. It begged him for it, but he could not comply.

_That _girl was dead.

And he could do nothing about it, but regret.

• • •

On the outskirts of a human village, a boy had managed to escape the watchful eyes of his parents. The gray-haired child heard the rush of the river and ran towards the refreshing sound. At the riverbed, he grabbed a handful of pebbles and skipped them across the surface. Enjoying the thrill of the moment, he continued to skip rocks until he spotted something unusual washed up on the riverbed.

Curious, the boy walked over to the object and realized that the "something unusual" was the body of a teenaged girl. He gasped and squatted to get a better look at the girl. _What beautiful silver hair_, he thought instinctively. He had never seen a girl with silver hair before.

Wondering why she was sleeping by the riverbed, he sat next to girl and waited for her wake up. Having sat next to the girl for some time now, he noticed her stirring awake. He saw her open her eyes and gasped. _What red eyes!_

"Hi," he chirped.

The girl didn't respond. It seemed she didn't know how to. The girl sat up, yawned and wondered who the tiny child before her was.

"What's your name?"

_Name?_ _What was a name? _The girl thought, completely confused.

"Do you know your name?" The boy repeated. "Nod if you do or shake your head if you don't."

The girl copied the boy and did both gestures.

"Hey! Don't copy me!" the child laughed.

"D-Don't copy… me…" the girl repeated hesitantly, unable to pronounce her words correctly.

"You're funny!"

The pair continued to "converse" and interact throughout the evening. The girl listened to everything the boy spouted and tried to make sense of what he was saying. But try as she might, she could have been a genius and she still wouldn't have been able to decode the rapid flurry of childish gibberish that came from the boy's mouth.

"Hope! Hope!" A pair of voices called out in the distance.

"Yikes," the boy, Hope bolted to his feet, "Oh no, I forgot about my parents, they must be worried sick about me! I should head home… Do you have a place to stay?"

The girl turned titled her head, still confused.

"Come on, you can stay at my house!" He grabbed the girl by the hand and led her to his log house.

Holding the girl's wrist, Hope knocked on the door to his house, "Dad I'm home!" He stated.

When Bartholomew Estheim opened the plain wooden door to their normal log-cabin, he never thought he would get the shock of his life. When he opened the door and found his boy, clinging to the arm of a tall, silver-haired, red-eyed, teenaged girl, he nearly fainted.

"Hope!" He shouted, taking his boy away from the confused teenaged girl, "Who are you!" He demanded.

"Dad, don't yell at her! She doesn't know who she is!"

"What?" Bartholomew lowered his tone, "Explain."

Hope explained everything to his father, starting from the encounter by the riverbed to their current situation.

"Can she stay, dad?"

Bartholomew Estheim thought intently, staring at the innocent face of the amnesiac girl. If she had no place to stay, if she had really lost her memory and forgotten her identity, then their house would be the best place for her to stay. Bartholomew thought hard. A decision like this could impact a life-time.

"She can stay," he finally gave in. Nora would no doubt honor his decision, "Only until we figure things out."

• • •

A couple of years passed, and Bartholomew Estheim had yet to "figure things out." Instead, he had accepted the girl, who was now known as Éclair Estheim, as his one and only daughter. He took pride in her beauty and mannerisms, and raised her as if she was his own daughter. Neither Hope, Éclair, nor his wife, Nora objected to his decision. In fact, Éclair's addition to their family was perfect, albeit his daughter was unique in many ways like that she had silver-hair, red-eyes, impossibly long canines, and never seemed to age. He initially had his suspicions, but decided that they weren't worth the stress.

Hope had been especially ecstatic. Being an only child, he had always wanted an older sister. Éclair fit right in, playing that role perfectly. She quickly became the boy's guardian, and the two were inseparable. For that, Bartholomew was thankful.

His wife, Nora had also welcomed their new daughter, from day one, with warm arms. Nora had taught Éclair all there was to being a proper wife. She taught her new daughter how to cook, to sew and to be patient with men and their many flaws.

Éclair soon regained her ability to talk. She conversed like a normal human being, able to comprehend everything. When Hope was at school in the village, Éclair worked with her mother and father, and assisted them at their steel mill, where they made swords for the local soldiers. Éclair's unique looks earned her the attention of every local village male. Coincidentally, the number of customers at the steel mill rose, but Bartholomew was not amused. He threatened to chase away any fool who tried to make a move on his only daughter.

Despite being admired by the villagers, Éclair lived an ordinary, human life, eating ordinary human food.

Never once did she realize that she was being sought out by the most powerful man to grace the planet. Never once did she realize that she was the Bride of the Vampire Ancient, Noctis L. Caelum, the Queen of the Cold Ones…

The Caitiff.

• • •

A/N: Hey guys, I said I was going to completely re-write Caitiff, and here it is! I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of thought into it! I had to, especially since I haven't updated this in ages. I hope you guys enjoy this and I'll write more if you guys give me the green light. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 1

"Real or dream?"

Gackt ~ _Jesus  
_

* * *

**The Caitiff**

by Eel Nivek  
**  
**_Chapter 1_

• • • • • •

"This is bad."

"What's going to happen to us now?"

"How is this possible?" A voice whispered frantically. "I thought t-tha—!"

"What's going on here?" An officer of the royal human army shouted, walking towards the group of nervous villagers. The men and women stepped aside and made way for the officer. The high-ranking official pinched his nose as the stench of an old corpse increased unbearably.

His eyes widened at what he saw next. In the middle of the villagers, an enormous beast the size of a hut, a feral-wolf, lied lifeless. A sword was skewered in its side and a dozen pitchforks were discarded onto the ground next to it.

"A wolf? This far from the Northern border?" He cried out. "You there!" He pointed to one of the villagers. "What happened here?"

The frightened villager stammered, "I-It came upon us with no warning s-sir. It tore through the huts and villagers alike without discretion. We did what we could to keep its destruction to a minimum, but it was far more than any of us could handle. O-Only by a stroke of luck were we able to overpower and surround it. There is no doubt, however that, had it come with its pack, the village would have been destroyed."

"How many are wounded?" The officer asked.

"Twenty have been killed, and forty wounded. The village is beyond saving. The wells are trampled, and the bridge is crushed." The villager replied. "If the capital decides to bring to supplies, the process will take too long. The best action is to evacuate the men and women West to Guardbridge or else starvation will take us all."

"Evacuate to Guardbridge?" The officer exclaimed in disbelief. "That's preposterous! The city is a week's journey from here, and the weather will be merciless. What you are proposing is absolute suicide!"

"What other option do we have?" The villager shouted. "If we stay, the people will starve, and with the current state of the village, the lack of shelter will wipe out the entire populace. In addition to these problems, this village is also the closest to the Northern border. If one wolf can make its way here, who is to say that others will not?"

The hesitation on the officer's face was evident. His brows were furrowed and his lips were curled. What was he supposed to do when both options had high probabilities of death? Could he really make a decision that would determine the fate of this small village, as insignificant as it may have been?

Closely factoring in every consideration, he made the decision.

"WAIT!" A bloody cry erupted from the North, the mountain pass. "AAAAAAAAGGH! SOMEBODY HELP! I DON'T WANT TO BE EA—EAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The exact instance the cry was silenced, a monstrous pack of wolves emerged from the depths of the forest. Each beast was, at the least, as tall as a doorway and as burly as a cart. Their teeth were also as long as human torsos and their gigantic bodies were so rugged that they bowled over trees as they came towards the village.

Upon seeing these terrifying beasts, the villagers panicked, and ran a muck. Men and women pushed and trampled each other as they ran for their lives. As a result, they were easy pickings for the wolves, which swooped down on the measly villagers and devoured them whole. The sound of bone-crunching filled the air. So much blood had been spilled throughout the entire village that the local river turned red. Death was everywhere.

As the events transpired, the officer stood still, paralyzed by shock and frozen in fear. All hope left his body as he witnessed the beasts rip his veteran soldiers into bits and pieces. What could anyone possibly do against such foul creatures? _Nothing_, he thought as a wolf swallowed another villager whole. _Absolutely nothing_.

It was a massacre.

The officer fled for his life, knowing that he could not do anything. The situation was far beyond his control. Only God could help those who were caught in the onslaught.

As he ran, he was barreled down like a bowling pin. His head struck the side of a stone-hut and cracked. Warm blood oozed down his forehead, making a puddle on his chest. He could neither see nor think properly. If this was a prelude to death, then he was certainly going to die.

In the middle of his hazy suffering, he spotted something absolutely abnormal given the situation.

_A woman._

A woman so beautiful that he thought he had already passed into heaven and was staring into the sympathetic eyes of an angel. The angel brushed her long, sable hair aside and walked passed his broken body.

He wanted to warn her about the dangerous beasts, but his throat was damaged. The only sound that escaped from his lips was a pitiful wheeze.

Even though the feral beasts were charging towards her, the angel pressed onward It was the most daunting thing he had ever seen. Surely, she would be torn to pieces like the others. What could she possibly do?

The wolves were now within striking distance. He wanted to close his eyes and spare himself from a bloody scene, but his eyes refused to close. _Run away!_ His soul screamed, but the woman remained.

Then in a flash of silver, the wolves closest to her split in two. Blood spurted from the meaty halves. _What in the name of…_ His eyes widened.

The woman shed her cloak. To his utter shock, she was fully dressed in what he assumed was foreign battle attire. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The garbs she wore were taught and tight against her curvaceous body, but not enough to outline her figure. It was provided little armor or protection, but allowed flexibility. The robes were pure white, making her look like a ghost when she danced throughout the battlefield.

And dance she did.

With a simple flick of her wrist, the wolves, which were a hundred times her size, exploded in chunks of flesh and blood. _What skill_… he thought in amazement. The sight was so marvelous he thought he was hallucinating, but it seemed he wasn't the only one that was stunned.

After seeing their pack mates being torn apart, the remaining wolves backed away intelligently as if their consciences told them that they knew better than to try to attack this new predator. He watched them turn their tails, but they didn't flee. They couldn't. Something was coming; something more frightening than the woman before them.

He felt it, too. The ground quaked as this new terror approached. Then, out of nowhere, a vicious howl rang into his ears. It was so loud felt his eardrums bursts.

And then he saw it, but he couldn't believe it. In front of the forest clearing, surrounded by the wolves which seemed like dwarves compared to it, was a silver wolf that was standing on its hind legs. Its eyes glowed red like rubies and its fangs were the size of the smaller wolves. This creature… It was a monster, _no_ it was THE monster. There was no better way of describing it.

It struck without warning.

The woman, who was most likely in shock, was sent flying faster than a bullet. He gritted his teeth. No one could have survived either the blow or the landing. What monstrosity was he witnessing? Never in all of his years could he have expected to encounter such a horrifying abomination on a relief mission to a village.

However, the night of surprises wasn't over. To the right, under the debris where the body of the woman should have been buried, the rubble exploded.

And out of the wreckage, a different woman emerged. A woman with hair as white as snow that shone under the moonlight and eyes… eyes so unnaturally red it looked like her irises were bleeding.

She waved her blade and in one swift cleave, the silver wolf fell to its knees, missing both of its legs. It howled in agony as it tried to re-adjust itself, but it only fidgeted around awkwardly. The silver-haired woman walked up to the wolf until she was staring directly at its teeth. She flicked her wrist and the wolf's snout shot straight up in the air.

Hearing the beast's agony, she flicked her wrist again and again and again until all that remained of the wolf were its bones.

With nothing to stop them now, the other wolves retreated into the mountains as quickly as they could.

The officer, who had watched everything from the sidelines, felt his body turn cold and numb. _So it's finally time…_ He closed his eyes and shook his head at his foolish misunderstanding. All this time, he had worried about the woman, when, in reality, she was the most dangerous predator there was.

As he took his last breath, he looked to the skies and prayed.

If monsters and supernatural beings like these truly existed…

Then God save his people.

• • •

Cassandra R. Aureus, the _Sixth_ noble under her Lord, Noctis L. Caelum, and lady of the Aureus clan, fell to her knees as she reverted to her normal form. Her silky, sable hair was coated in her own blood. The damned wolf had nearly killed her. If she hadn't released the seal on her powers when she did, she would have lost her head.

But who would have ever thought that she would encounter a _Canis_ or werewolf, as the human referred to them as, here? She had to notify her Lord.

Cassandra tried to stand, but her body was too badly damaged. Prodding herself, she realized that she had broken multiple bones. This was the first time she had been wounded on the battlefield. If her husband saw her in this state, he'd throw a dramatic, overly-possessive, "let me protect you" fit. _That_ was something she would try to avoid at all costs.

"Lady Cassandra!" A voice cried out desperately.

The clan leader turned to address one of her household servants.

"Lady Cassandra!" The young male servant repeated and paused to catch his breath. "I came here as fast I could, are you hurt my lady?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm sorry to trouble you Viktor."

"Nonsense my lady, I live to serve the Aureus household. Plus, Lord Aureus would have my head if I neglected my duties to my lady," the boy looked around at the complete destruction of the human village. "My lady, if I may ask, what happened here?"

"I had the misfortune of fighting a Canis," she replied and pulled up her sleeves to show the boy her purple bruises. She gritted her teeth as the pain of rolling her sleeves jarred her body.

The servant boy's eyes bulged out of their sockets, "I-I can't b-believe it! My lady, you fought with a Canis… here? How is that possible! I thought that the wolves were sealed out by King Caelum's barrier. The wolves should be restricted to the far North frontier. There is no way that those mutts could have found a way passed the barrier."

"I wish that was the case… I really do," Cassandra whispered. "But unfortunately it isn't. As you know, the Lord's powers have not been the same since the time 10 years ago when he executed the traitor, Nathaniel. The barrier must have weakened and the wolves must have found a way through the seams."

"B-But my lady… T-That means!"

Cassandra nodded, "There are other creatures fouler than wolves in the borderlands. The Southern, Eastern and Western borders are vulnerable. I would not be surprised if we received word from our scouts that other human border-villages were attacked as well."

In a pitiful attempt to stand, the Lady of Aureus clan fell weakly to her side. She grimaced as rocks bit into shoulder.

"My lady!" The servant boy cried out, hoisting his mistress onto his back.

"I-I need…" Cassandra panted raggedly. Sweat formed on her brows. "I-I need my husband… Where is he, Viktor?"

"Lord Aureus is presently with the King, surveying the Western lands. He had already left the Aureus household before I departed in search of my Lady. In my haste, I assigned Valerie and Desmond with task of watching over the estate."

"That was a wise decision," Cassandra set her head against the servant boy's back. "You've grown so much, Viktor. I remember when I first held you, you were a little child no bigger than wolf pup. Now look at you… You've become an impressive knight."

"My lady…" the boy blushed.

"Of course, you haven't fully grown into a man," Cassandra teased, pulling at the boy's cheeks. "After all, you don't even have a mate yet. So tell me… Are there any Bride's that have caught your eye?"

"N-No!" the boy denied. "I don't need a mate! I don't mean to offend anyone, but what is the point of having a mate? I'm fine as it is, and I think I can continue to manage without one. God help me, if I ever tie my fate to any one of those frail, dependent, loud-mouthed Brides!"

Cassandra smiled. The boy had so much to learn.

"On a serious note, my lady, are mates really _that_ important?"

"Yes they are," She nodded silently, her thoughts drifting to her husband, who had won her over unconditionally with his childish charm and humor. "You'll learn eventually, but once you complete the mating ritual… Your life changes completely. It's like tying your fate with your lover and becoming one. Even as we speak, I can't help but think of my husband. I yearn for him and his blood, and I am sure he does the same. If anything, I can feel his presence, and that alone, is everything I need."

"My lady."

"Yes?"

"How do you think the King feels?"

There was a slight pause.

"I honestly can't say that I know, but if I had to guess, I would say that he's lonely. He's lived longer than any of us and has experienced the flaws of immortality without a mate at his side. That is not a feat to take lightly. I can't even sleep without my husband at night. To think that he's lived for so long without a mate just proves how remarkable he is. But at the end of the day… It's still sad to see him so lonely."

"Lonely?" the boy disagreed. His King, the Lord of all Vampires, the Silent One, the only vampire who could level entire armies with a simple whisper, was _lonely_? He just couldn't imagine it. His King was powerful, merciless, emotionless, and anything but lonely. The word lonely itself implied that his King was somehow vulnerable, and vulnerable was not something anyone would dare accuse their King of being.

"And do you want to know something else?" Cassandra continued. "I bet if he did find a mate, we'd all see a side of the King that no one has before, a playful side of him that smiles and laughs freely without having to worry about maintaining his image."

"How can you be so sure, my lady?"

"Love," she replied. It was such a cliché response, but it was true. "Because love. That's all there is to it. When you truly care for something or someone, you change. You don't care about anything else and you could care less what others think about you. When you love someone, all that matters is their approval. Of course, you wouldn't know. From what I know, you're still quite the _virgin_, aren't you?"

"M-My lady! My sexual relations are not of importance to this _serious_ discussion that we are having," the servant boy's face turned beet red. "P-Plus, why does it matter if I am a virgin or not!"

"So you are a virgin." Lady Cassandra licked her lips playfully. "It's been _too_ long since I've had one of those."

"MY LADY!" the boy replied furiously, trying to ignore the silky fingers that were crawling down his chest. _Oooh_, but damn, they felt good. "We can't do this!"

"Shush," she whispered into his ear. "You said you didn't want a mate, right? You could be my lover… and I could be your mistress. No one would have to know. How does that sound?"

_That sounded divine. _

"That is absolutely inappropriate my lady!" He shouted.

"Bahahahaha! I'm just joking," Cassandra laughed. "You're so cute when you blush!"

"My lady, you really must stop teasing me. My poor heart can't take anymore abuse and what would Lord Aureus do if he saw this interaction? He would behead me and toss my body to the dogs!"

Cassandra smiled. "He would do no such…"

Hearing his lady pause, he became worried. Something was terribly wrong; he couldn't shake off this horrid feeling.

Then he heard a scream so tormenting it grated his ears, forcing him to his knees. It was Lady Cassandra. She had fallen off of his back—no—she had thrown herself onto the floor, and was grabbing the left side of her waist. The whites of her eyes were blood red and her face was flushed with sweat. Her midsection shot upwards, creating an arch from her legs to her head.

She continued to scream.

Viktor panicked. What devilry had possessed his lady and caused her such pain? He quickly moved her hands away from her waist and tore at the robe. Spanning from mid-thigh to her left shoulder was a hideous gash in the shape of a wolf claw. He had to look away from the horrible sight or else he would vomit.

It must have been the wound she had received earlier.

For some unknown reason it had re-opened, and it was killing her. The blood from the wound started to bubble. His Lady grabbed fistfuls of dirt and bit her bloody lips in response to the indescribable pain.

And then he smelt it—the reason why his lady was in pain, and the reason why her blood was bubbling.

As the putrid scent of acid hit him full on, everything became clear to him.

His lady had been poisoned.

• • •

"Éclair! Éclair!" A voice cried in distraught. "Dad what's wrong with her?"

16 year-old Hope Estheim grabbed his father's wool coat desperately, tears sliding down his cheeks. He had been out fishing with the other village boys when he heard that the town's doctor had been called to his house.

Dropping everything, he had run home only to find his older sister lying on her bed, dead still as if she had been forced into a sleep.

It was shocking to see his somewhat-invincible, older sister in such a weak state.

Anyone that knew her would tell you that she was different, unlike any of the other village women. She was silent, calm and collected at all times; she never spoke out of turn or forgot her manners. But she wasn't afraid of berating or belittling those that deserved it.

As a child, he had been bullied occasionally by a group of older boys. Éclair realized this and found out who the boys were. No one knew what happened, but the boys never bothered him again.

If there was word that perfectly described his sister it was _intimidating_. Although she was the talk of the town and the object of every townsman's desire, no one had the courage to approach her. There was an unspoken rule about her that she was a woman that no poor village man could ever hope to have as wife. She was a charming Princess or a gentle Queen as the elderly townswomen would call her. The poor village men could only watch her, at a distance, with longing as she took her daily walks through the town center.

Of course, commanding the attention of every man in the village came at a price, Éclair was the envy and hate of almost every woman. Often, the village women and girls would get together, and gossip about her, making snide comments about her foreign nature and her "disgusting" eyes.

But that never affected his sister. To Éclair, talk was cheap.

Seeing his sister lifeless, he didn't know what to do. How could something like this happen to her?

His thoughts mindlessly drifted to his first meeting with her, ten years ago. That day on the river-bed, his whole life had changed. He, who would have grown up an only child, had gotten a sister, an overly-protective sister that rarely smiled or laughed, but also a kind sister that took care of him daily.

As he thought about, Éclair had changed a lot during the last ten years, physically. Of course, he had grown as well, but his sister had completely changed from a skinny, young girl to a shapely, imposing woman that towered over the other village women. It was part of the reason why the old ladies called her a Queen. His sister, for one, had all of the makings of a noblewoman.

_His_ sister.

His and no one else's, he thought bitterly.

"What did the doctor say?" He broke the silence and asked his father.

Bartholomew sighed, rubbing his temples, "He didn't know what was wrong with her. He said this was the first time he had seen such a strange occurrence. Right now, all we can do is pray that she will recover."

Gnashing his teeth, Hope stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Hope?" His mother called from the kitchen, where she was brewing up herbs for Éclair.

"I need some air!" He replied quickly, tossing on his fur coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"But it's dark and cold outside!" His mother stated. There was a hint of worry in her voice.

"I won't be out for too long. I just need to clear my head."

"Make sure you get back before midnight or else I'll have to send your father out in the cold to fetch you, understood?"

"Thanks."

Nora Estheim sighed, shaking her head. Hope must have been really depressed. Then again, who in this household wouldn't be? After all, it was the first time Éclair had been sick. Truthfully, she was also worried sick about her daughter's health, but her son was taking this too hard on himself. He had to realize that there was nothing he could do, and sulking would not make Éclair any better.

She continued stirring the pot of herbs. The hot steam blew into her face. For some reason, she started to cry. The ladle in her hand shook as pictures of her precious daughter's lifeless body filled her head. How long would her baby be that way?

_Please wake up, Éclair… Sweetheart…_

"Nora!" The sound of her husband's voice made her jump. "Nora come here!"

The urgent tone in her husband's voice caused her to toss the ladle aside. She ran out of the kitchen with her apron and mittens still on, and sped towards Éclair's bedroom.

"What is it?" She shouted as she burst into the room. "Wha—Oh… My God… What's happening to her!?" She shrieked, lunging to her daughter's side. "What's happening to her hair? W-What's happen…" Her words were replaced by a loud series of sobs.

Bartholomew held Nora in his arms in an attempt to calm her down, but he was as startled as she was. He knew he was getting old, but he didn't think he was old enough for his eyes to play tricks on him. Maybe he was wrong because he swore his daughter's lustrous silver hair had just turned pink, the color of a budding rose.

Then suddenly, Éclair's eyes shot open, and he racked his brain again for more answers. Her eyes weren't red, they were green.

"D-Dad?" Éclair whispered, uncertain why her father was giving her such a funny look. "What's wrong, dad? You look like you've just seen something you shouldn't have."

"Oh sweetheart!" Her mother cried, pulling her towards her and smothering her against her chest. "We thought you weren't ever going to wake up! What happened? How do you feel? Should I get you something?"

Éclair shook her head, "I'm fine mom. Well… At least, I feel fine."

"What's happened to your hair?" Her mother cried, tugging on her locks. "It's pink."

Éclair knitted her brows in confusion. Since when did she have pink hair? Her mother's hands grabbed her cheeks and brought her to eye-level.

"Yours eye are green, too. Oh my poor baby, I don't know whether I should be worried or relieved. I'm happy you're awake now, but I'm afraid of what's happening to you. This isn't normal."

"I know," Éclair nodded, touching her bizarre pink hair. This was surreal. She knew her original, white hair was unnatural to the eyes of others, but she felt out of place know that her hair was pink. So many questions cycled through her head. Would her hair ever return to normal? Why pink?

"Dad?" She called out to her silent father.

"Oh," Bartholomew perked up. "Don't worry yourself, sweetheart. I was thinking of… Never mind, that's not important. But you always be my daughter, no matter what, remember that."

"I know," She repeated. "Thanks."

"I'm still upset," Nora huffed. Her tears were finally dry. "But I know that we'll have plenty of time in the future to find out happened to you, honey, so I'll stop my questions for today. We should just be glad that you're awake. But it's strange though… You almost look…"

"Human," Bartholomew finished as if he had read her mind then realized what he had said. "Sorry, don't mind me. It was an unnecessary comment."

Nora nodded in silent agreement. What Bartholomew had said was correct; Éclair did look like a human now. Well, correction, she looked _more_ like a human now. Initially, everyone had their suspicions about her new daughter; they weren't fools. But Éclair displayed no habits that would distinguish her as something other than a human girl, so they let the issue die, but there were still some people that doubted her origin.

Regardless, she loved her daughter unconditionally.

A loud rapping on the front door drew them out of their silence.

"It must be Hope," Bartholomew stood. "I'll go let him in. He'll be happy to know that you're awake."

As he reached the door, Bartholomew felt a chill run up his spine. Something in the deepest pits of both his gut and conscience told him not to open the door.

His hand froze at the knob, "Who is it?" He projected in a serious voice that masked his nervousness.

"H…H…Hh…" Came the ominous reply. By now, every bone in Bartholomew's body screamed at him to turn back and grab a weapon.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Who are you?" He demanded.

"He…He…Hel…" the voice croaked. "H-Help me…"

And then there was silence.

Hands firmly gripping the doorknob, he noticed something peculiar. The floor had become slippery. Looking down, he realized that he was standing on a puddle of blood that had leaked through the cracks under the door.

Without wasting any more time, he pulled the door open and a dismembered figure slithered into the house. The man, or whatever was left of him, was dead by the time he hit the floor.

"BARTHOLOMEW!" Someone shouted from down the road. "BARTHOLOMEW! GET OUT OF HERE!"

"W-What's going on?" He spoke to himself, examining the corpse of the villager that was soiling his doorway.

"BARTHOLOMEW," the man shouted, coming within arms distance.

"B-Bjorn…" He stuttered, addressing the armed villager, who was panting for air. "What on Earth is going on?"

"The village has been attacked."

"Attacked?" He couldn't believe it. Myelin was one of the nation's most heavily-armed border fortresses. A siege on the village would have taken a fortnight at the very minimum.

Bjorn nodded. He had a nasty cut above his left brow that forced him to keep one eye shut.

"That's impossible! No army could have broken through the walls so quickly."

"It wasn't an army. It was a pack of giant wolves, bigger than anything you can imagine! They tore through the walls like paper and destroyed the entire village within minutes. You're lucky you live on the outskirts of Myelin, they haven't reached this far yet."

"They destroyed the entire village? What of our soldiers? What of the villagers?"

"Dead, except those that managed to flee like me, and those that live furthest from the Western pass like you." Bjorn answered. "You must run. Take Nora and the children and flee from here while you still can. Or else…" He motioned towards the dead body. "You'll end up like him."

"T-This is…" Bartholomew was at a loss for words.

"Cease your loitering! Take your family, run South, and head for the capital. The King's City is a hundred times more fortified and safe than the border-villages. Seek a new life there. Myelin is no longer a place we can call our home."

"I can't just abandon my house like that!" Bartholomew protested. "My family has lived here for over twenty years!"

Frustrated, Bjorn seized him by the seams of his coat, "Listen to me, you fool! This isn't a game. The longer you stay in Myelin, the more you jeopardize your family's chances of survival. Are you really that blind? Can't you see the corpse right here? I didn't come all this way to try to convince a suicidal man, I came here to warn a friend of an impending danger."

Bartholomew clenched his fists then gave in. "Alright…"

"Good."

"Where are you going?"

Bjorn stopped, his back faced Bartholomew. "There's some unfinished business I have to do."

"You're going back, aren't you?" Bartholomew asked, even though he knew the answer, and that nothing he said could change the bearded man's reply. "Bj—"

"I made a promise to my family, Bartholomew. I told them I would see them soon, that I would join them once Myelin was evacuated."

"Then that means…"

Bjorn tapped him on the shoulder and grinned, "I'll see you on the other side, old friend. Hopefully, it won't be soon."

Bartholomew nodded and watched his friend of many years disappear up the road that led to the town center.

Without stalling any longer, he rushed back into the house and explained everything to Nora and Éclair. They were just as overwhelmed as he had been, but he told them to put on their cloaks and forced them out of the room, nonetheless. They had already lost too much time.

As they exited the house, taking with them only what they needed, Nora stopped.

"What about Hope?" She asked.

"My plan was to go find him, once I saw you two off." Bartholomew replied. He knew that both Nora and Éclair wanted to protest, he could see it in their eyes. "Hope and I will meet you at the King's Tavern like we planned. Please… _Just _go."

Hearing the desperation and pain in his voice, Nora and Éclair nodded reluctantly. Éclair gathered her tiny mother in her arms, and urged her along the road encouragingly.

Before she left, she turned and stared into her father's stormy, gray eyes.

"Dad," She rushed into her father's arms, burying her face into his broad chest. She tried to hold back her tears. She never cried. That was saying a lot about the situation. "I won't forgive you if you don't come back."

"I'll come back," Bartholomew stroked her hair. "A knight always returns for his lady."

Éclair laughed at the old reference and played along, "I am a princess, after all."

"Run along, princess."

Returning to her mother, Éclair focused on the dark road ahead. It was up to her father to bring Hope back to them.

"Are you alright mom?"

Nora nodded, "You know me. I'll be fine in a minute or two. That man though… You recognized him didn't you? You knew him."

Her mother was referring to the corpse of the man that was rotting away in their house.

"His name was Geoffrey. He was the apprentice of Strom the Blacksmith. I can't say I knew him well, but what I do know is that he was skilled with weapons. No ordinary wolf could have done that to him, and that's what frightens me."

A gust of cold wind brushed passed them.

Éclair pulled her hood over her head and pressed herself against her mother to provide warmth for her. Thankfully, they had taken a popular, well-developed route to the ferry. There were rocks on each side of the road that lit up like yellow fireflies, providing an accurate image of what lay ahead. Theoretically, they should be safe. Unlike unknown roads, popular ones didn't have bandits or criminals. Realistically, however, anything could happen.

She felt her mother's hands clamp around her arm.

"What is that?" Her mother questioned nervously.

Éclair turned her head to the left and peered into the pitch-black woods. It wasn't hard to notice, and it wasn't something anyone wanted to see, given the time of day. From deep within the forest, a pair of glowing red, human eyes stared at them, studying them intently before vanishing.

"Did you see that?" Her mother whispered.

She indicated that she did by wiping the sweat that had built up around her temples, "We need to move before that thing decides to come after us, if it already hasn't."

But before they could take another step, they were surrounded by men in exotic cloaks, each with insignias that belonged to a foreign kingdom.

Éclair shielded her mother from their sight as best as she could, "We have no money." She informed. If these people were bandits then they wouldn't find a profit here.

"Money?" The first man scoffed, tossing back his hood and revealing himself. "We don't want your money."

The first thing she noticed was how pale his skin was and how lethal his teeth were. Those looked like they could bite through anything.

"Then what do you want? There should be no reason for you people to stop us. We're nothing more than travelers on our way to the capital."

"You're pretty dumb, aren't you?" The man responded, laughing to spite her. "Two women all _alone_, at _night,_ in the middle of _nowhere_, with no one around for _miles_, what else could a group of men possibly want given the situation?"

"You sick bastards!" Éclair cursed, straightening her posture. "Stay away!"

"Now, now! Don't be shy! Why don't we all just have some fun?" The man walked up to her.

She retaliated by drilling him in the chin. The man dropped to the floor instantaneously, like a rock. Seizing the opportunity, she held the unconscious man in a headlock and pulled out the dagger she had strapped at her waist.

"Don't move or else he loses his head." She warned, holding the blade to man's neck and drawing blood to show his companions that she was dead serious. For some reason, her right-hand, the one she had punched the man with, burned as if she had smashed it against a brick wall.

The hooded figures stopped their advance and exchanged uneasy looks amongst each other. Clearly, they had not been expecting her to fight back. _Serves them right_.

Tightening her hold on her captive, she walked forward and hissed, "Get out of the way."

The circle of men parted, opening up a path straight ahead. Despite having a hostage, she kept her guard up, taking small steps and looking around often.

She felt her mother grab the back of cloak. Surprisingly, she was taking this very well. Normally, she would have broken down in tears, but it seemed she understood the position they were in. If they showed any signs of weakness, they were finished. It was as simple as that.

So far, everything was going smoothly. Keeping her eyes on the road ahead and forcing her hand to maintain its tight grip on the dagger, she walked faster. By now, she could feel the gazes of the men piercing into the back of her head.

All of a sudden, a brown-haired man, entirely different from the other men, cut her off and blocked her way.

"I'm sorry," He spoke in an autocratic voice. "But I'm afraid this is as far as you go."

Éclair had to stop walking to recover from her panic. Her heart was pounding furiously, so much that she felt like it would burst at any moment.

She flashed the dagger theatrically, "Move it, I won't say it again."

"Such insolence…" She heard the man whisper. Her eyes widened as he approached her, with his hands in the pockets of his foreign suit. There wasn't a hint of worry or concern in his stride.

"I'll kill him!" She threatened. "I'll really kill him! Stay away."

"Will you?" His lips curved into an amused smile. "Then do it. _Kill _him."

She couldn't do it. Her body was under some sort of spell. Either way, spell or not, she wouldn't have been able to do it. It was a bluff that had worked only once.

She felt the man's cold fingers pry hers off the hilt of the dagger. Her hand remained in the air while he toyed with the blade. He slid the face of the dagger against her cheek in an arrogant indication of superiority.

"You humans are all the same. You reproduce in numbers like ants, yet your significance and contributions to these lands are little. You steal not only from the land, but also yourselves like uncultured fools. If my King was not so merciful, you would not exist today," The man spat. "Be grateful."

_You humans?_ What was this lunatic talking about? Unable to speak or move, she glared at him defiantly.

Seeing this, the man scowled, "You should learn to respect those who hold power over you. Shall I remind you?"

He pointed the tip of the dagger against her chin.

She didn't relent.

He laughed in fascination of the woman before him, "I've wasted enough time here."

As soon as he turned away from her, she felt a mental presence overwhelm her mind, crushing and squeezing her conscience. She gasped as her head felt like it was going to split in half. Her body couldn't hand the pressure any longer. She passed out.

"You," The man adjusted his spectacles and pointed to one of his servants.

"Y-Yes Lord Astrum."

"Tie them up," He commanded, motioning to the pair of unconscious human women.

"Right away, my lord!" The servant complied eagerly. Once the task was finished and the women were secured, he stood. "What would you have me do with them, Lord Astrum?"

"Take them to the House of Aureus and put them in the slave's quarters. The head maid will assign tasks for them as she sees fit."

"Yes, my lord." The servant replied and whisked the two women away.

"As for the rest of you," Lord Astrum turned to the remainder of the Astrum clan vampires. "Follow me." He ordered, disappearing into the night.

• • •

For probably the tenth time that night, Bartholomew couldn't believe what he was seeing. As he finally exited the forest clearing and passed through the archway to the town center, he saw thousands upon thousands corpses of monstrous wolves scattered across the center. The air reeked of putrid flesh and the grounds were literally covered in sheets of blood.

It looked like a massacre had occurred, and certainly, these wolves had been on the receiving end. Bjorn had said that these were the wolves that had destroyed their village in mere minutes. If that was the case, then he couldn't even begin to think about what other vile creature could be at work here. The sight was so devastating that he actually felt sympathy for the beasts.

They hadn't been killed. They had been butchered, chopped into bits and pieces like chicken feed. He would never have been able to guess what they were until he spotted one that had managed to escape a gruesome death.

Off in the distance, he heard a clash of swords. Running towards the sound, he found Hope exchanging blows with a blond-haired man. A crowd of men, dressed in strange tunics and flashy armor, formed a circle around them. By the looks of it, the fight was supposed to be entertaining for the crowd. They were definitely enjoying it, shouting and laughing whenever the blond-haired man landed a blow.

But he didn't enjoy it all. How could he? How could any father for that matter enjoy watching their son get knocked aside? By no means was Hope an unskilled swordsman. He had taught his son the basics and much more.

In respect to the warriors in Myelin, Hope had been a top swordsman that placed either 1st or 2nd during annual competitions. His son was far from being a novice, but the blond-haired man made him look like one.

It was evident who the victor was going to be. Hope was panting for breath, barely able to keep his guard up, whereas his opponent had barely broken a sweat. And, by the way the man loosely wielded his sword with one-hand, Bartholomew knew he wasn't trying.

Unable to watch any longer, he charged straight towards the circle of men and burst into the center, placing himself between his unconscious son and the blond-haired man.

"Hey watcha' doing old man?" The blond questioned, pointing his sword at him.

"Have you all no pride or shame? Only an egotistical coward would challenge a young boy to a man's duel!" He shouted, projecting his voice as loud as he could. "Have you all no shame?!"

"What's wrong with having a little fun?" The blond laughed, shrugging at his companions who laughed along.

"Is this your idea of fun? Knocking around kids that have no experience in actual combat? My son is sixteen years old for crying out loud!"

"So what?" The blond replied. His voice was dry now. "I was ten when my father made me kill my mother. I can remember everything, the way she pleaded, on her knees, to spare her, and how my heart raced after I took her life."

"Y-You…" Bartholomew gasped, seeing the demented look on the man's face. "You're insane!"

"Hahaha! Just kidding!" The blond laughed. His face was smiling, but his eyes weren't. Bartholomew knew that the story was true; he knew a murderer when he saw one. "Did I scare ya?"

"Lord Aureus!" One of the men standing in the circle interrupted.

"What is it?" the blond replied.

"Lord Astrum and the King have arrived at the Western Pass. Your presence is required at once."

The blond sighed, "Ignis and Master are here already? Maaaan, those two have horrible timing. Gah, it looks like I have to end this. Are you ready, old man?"

Bartholomew straightened his posture. "Ready for what?"

"If you can take this, I'll let you and your kid live, but if you can't, _well_… Let's just say, you'll be dead, and your kid will follow soon after."

"Take wha—"

He couldn't finish the question. As soon as the first word escaped his lips, the blond disappeared, and in the second that followed, he felt something like a jackhammer collide with his gut. He went barreling into the air, breathless, and dropped to the floor motionlessly.

Bartholomew was in excruciating pain. His stomach felt as if it had exploded, and he was on the verge of passing out, but he was very much still alive.

"Wow, old man, you're made of some tough stuff. I've seen people implode when I punch them, but you're not even close to dying," He vaguely heard the blond say. "Hey you!" This time he was calling someone. "Take this old man and his son to the arena! I think I've found a pair of participants for the Games."

"L-Let… us g-go…" Bartholomew barely managed to wheeze out. "Y-You… made… a deal…"

"What was that?" The blond inquired then scoffed. "I did no such thing. If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure I said that I'd let you live. I never said you could go."

Realizing that he had been duped, Bartholomew dropped his head in defeat. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt his body being hoisted onto a pair of shoulders. From there on, he really couldn't recall a thing. His conscience had left him.

• • •

Lord Aureus, as he was known as to the members of his clan, stood under the archway of the desecrated human village, and eagerly awaited the arrival of his Master. It had been quite a while since he had seen his Master. Perhaps he had found a mate?

That assumption quickly died as he saw his elegant Master approaching the archway with only Ignis at his side and a couple of peasants trailing them. Knowing his Master, if he found a mate, he would never let her out of his sight.

He knelt before his black-haired Master and inclined his head in respect.

"Prompto," His Master acknowledged. "Rise."

He stood then turned to his Master's companion, the third clan leader and acknowledged him, "Ignis."

Lord Astrum or Ignis grinned, "You need to cut your hair."

Prompto embraced his friend and laughed, "Is that really all you have to say to me? After all of these years? Well then, two can play that game. You're clothes look like trash. _GarbaJ_ with a capital J and an emphasis on the -_ahj_, my friend. Who picked that cloak for you? Your cleaning mistress? Talk about having no sense of fashion."

Ignis cleared his throat. "Actually, Master recommended this attire for me."

_Oh shit!_

Prompto's eyes widened, realizing his grave mistake. _What the_ _FUH… _"Well damn, you should have said so earlier! I think it looks FANTASTIC!"

"Prompto."

"Y-Yes Master," the blond replied nervously, and he had good reason to be nervous. Whenever his Master used that tone, things died.

"Have you forgotten what pain was? Must I remind you? Shall I pry your eyes out?"

"NO! NO! NO! You wouldn't do that to me, would you? Master?"

"Of course not," Noctis replied in a humorless voice. "I was just kidding."

_Just kidding_? Prompto thought in utter confusion. Was it just him or had his stoic Master just made an attempt at being humorous?

"Ahahaha!" He heard Ignis force a laugh. Ignis shot him a look that said, "_Laugh if you know what's good for you." _And so he laughed for the sake of his Master, who was a complete child when it came to being funny.

"Prompto, what of your report?" His Master asked.

"By the time my clan arrived at the village, the wolves had already destroyed everything in sight, and the humans were dead. Ten of my men were injured during the fight, but they are receiving treatment from my healers as we speak. We destroyed all of the wolves and encountered nothing unusual."

"Was there a Canis amongst the pack?" Ignis asked.

"No," Prompto shook his head, "But…"

Suddenly, a chill passed through his body and he froze. This feeling was… No… No… It wasn't possible!

"But what?" Ignis demanded, but backed off the minute he saw the blond drop to his knees, clutching his head. "What's wrong?!"

"NOOO!" Prompto screamed in anguish. His uncontrollable lament was heard from miles away. The trees nearby uprooted and flew into air as he released the rage that quickly accumulated within him.

_This can't be. This can't be. This can't be!_

He broke down into tears. His soul felt like there was a void in it. _She's gone,_ was all he could repeat as he slammed his fists into the ground, creating quakes that knocked the lesser vampires off their feet.

Ignis ran towards Prompto.

"STAY AWAY!" The blond shrieked, covering his head under his arms. His eyes flashed dangerously red.

"Prompto you…" Ignis breathed. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Cassa… My Cassa…" He whimpered like a wounded animal backed into a corner. "S-She's gone. I-I can't feel her anymore. She's gone. She's gone. S-She's… Gone… No… NOOO! It's so cold Cassandra…"

At this point, Prompto was beyond reasoning with. He went berserk, "STOP IT! STOP HURTING MY CASSANDRA!" He screamed at the sky, and continued to do so until he felt a pair of warm hands grasp his shoulders. _Master…_

"Rest," Noctis whispered.

At the command, Prompto felt his eyes shutting on their own accord. His Master's soft voice had lulled him into a sleep.

"Ignis."

"Yes Master?" Ignis replied as he rushed over to take Prompto off of his Master's hands.

"Make preparations for a funeral in Pulse. Gather all of the clan heads and have them report to the Kingdom within the week." Noctis instructed.

"But Master, surely Cassandra couldn't be…" Ignis wanted to protest, but his Master's eyes were cold and serious. "That's impossible…"

Noctis closed his eyes, drowning himself in the pain of losing one of his own. Whoever's hand was at work here had better pray to the Gods that he didn't find them.

"As of today…"

He formulated several ways to murder the wretches that had laid hands on his children.

"The Lady of the Aureus clan, Cassandra R. Aureus is dead."

_Hide while you still can,_ he warned his nameless enemies. _I'm going to hunt you down._

• • •

Elsewhere, in the shadowy depths of an ice cavern, a faction of robed figures sat on pillars that formed a ring around an ivory table.

"Did it work?" One of them spoke.

"It did," Another replied. "My scouts have reported that the clan leader is dead."

"Of course it worked," A sensual voice chuckled evilly. "The poison of the Arachnids has always been a leech's shortcoming. A tiny drop can kill a leech in less than ten seconds. _Sacred Tear_. Did you know that's what they call it?"

A couple of the figures laughed.

"Regardless, your tactic of equipping my wolves with poison was ingenious," the figure at the head of the table boomed.

"Oh stop it, you flatter me."

"So where do we strike next?" the head inquired.

"Well, you know, the leeches have been very fond of their so called _Games_, it would be a pity if something went terribly wrong while the all of the clan leaders were gathered together, wouldn't it?"

It was an excellent plan. The head grinned viciously, "One down."

"Ten to go."

• • •

A/N: Well hi there, I don't know where to even begin...

First off, I probably sound like a broken record right now, but I am SO sorry for being ever so slow at updating. Honestly, I felt super guilty, and died a little the past few months whenever I visited fanfiction with my word document stuck at the 0 word count mark. So i'll apologize, over and over again, because this and updating is the only thing I can do for you guys as a writer. No lie, no fluff, no kiss-ass, though, it wasn't my love for Lightis that made me write this chapter, it was you guys. As I read the PMs that you guys would occasionally send, asking me when I was going to update, I felt like an asshole, so I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, and if anyone still cares, one of my mane New Years resolutions is to update more. Hopefully, at least one update per month! (except in January, busy busy Dx)

tl;dr — I'm sorry I haven't updated, I will definitely do better in 2013

A few notes on the chapter, I'm sorry if I bored you to tears. This chapter was mainly an exposition, introduction, build up the feel for the story type of chapter. If the names were confusing, I am hella sorry, I confused myself as well while I was editing the chapter. Everything will be explained, all the characters, clan-leaders, villains, etc. Everything will be clarified soon enough or just shoot me a PM if you have any _questions_, _concerns_ or _winning lotto tickets_.

Also, I really love fantasy and writing about supernatural creatures, and whatnot, so please bear with me if the plot gets ridiculous at times or the characters seem overly-retarded, I'm doing my best to incorporate as much Lightis as I can into hopefully what becomes an epic fantasy story!

Thanks, I love you guys! Have a wonderful 2013. Happy New Years!


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